The Butler Didn't Do It (A Maddox Storm Mystery Book 2) (7 page)

The only empty room upstairs was Lydia Fieldman’s forest suite, and that needed to be preserved for the police investigation.

I left them to their squabbling and delved into the second drawer of the bachelor chest for a pair of thin cotton pants and camisole. To be fair, I’d felt overwhelming relief when Nate had insisted on staying close, I just hadn’t realized he’d meant quite this close.

“What about the Parkers?” Joe said. “And Charles and Jonas, they have garden suites on the ground floor. Shouldn’t your duty be to protect everyone?”

“The Parkers have each other,” Nate said flatly. “Maddox, Miss Crawley and Julie Brown are the most vulnerable, so I made a judgement call.”

Joe gave me an incredulous look. “Aren’t you going to say something about this?”

“I’m going to take a nice hot bath and when I’m done, I expect both of you to be gone.” I banged the drawer shut and flourished my nightclothes at them to show I meant business. “You can continue your squabbling out in the hallway.”

“You’re in real danger here.” Nate cocked his head, his voice gravel soft, the gaze he set on me silver-glinted and dead serious. “I’ll find a reason to cuff and book you if you leave me no choice.”

“You wouldn’t.” I snorted a laugh, almost choked on it. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“You tampered with evidence. Withheld information.” He ticked my crimes off with his fingers as he listed them. “Purchased the murder weapon by your own admission.”

“That’s all supposition.” I scowled at him. “Or something.”

“It’s all I need to hold you for twenty-four hours.”

“You can’t arrest Maddie,” Joe snapped.

“I don’t take orders from you.” Nate swung that hard gaze on him. “And I have no intention of arresting Maddox, but I will take her into custody if that’s the only way to keep her safe.”

“No one’s arguing about keeping Maddie safe,” Joe said. “But you can do it from downstairs. I’m just along the hallway if anything happens.”

Nate smiled. It wasn’t pretty. “Think you can handle a rescue without fainting?”

“I didn’t—” Joe cut off, his face reddening as he struggled with his dilemma. Let the lie ride or admit he’d been knocked out cold by a girl.

“That’s enough,” I told Nate.

“You’re right.” He pushed away from the wall, came a step closer, and the hardness turned to smoke in his grey gaze. “I’m not trying to make this harder on you, Maddox. If you’d prefer, I’ll take Joe’s room and he can sleep in here.”

“Fine by me,” Joe said.

I couldn’t imagine anything more horrifying, a cozy night in bed with my husband.

“Those are my only choices?” I said gruffly.

“There’s always option number three.” A slow smile hitched one corner of his mouth. “I take Joe’s room and he can crash next door with Miss Crawley.”

My own smile curled into my toes. I should have been annoyed, but it wasn’t easy to stay mad at Nate when he turned on the charm.

∞∞∞

I tucked my long brown curls into the shower cap, kept the towel wrapped around me until I stepped into the claustrophobic cubicle and slid the frosted glass panel into place. There was no way I could relax in a hot bath with Nate prowling right outside the bathroom door. Not even if I’d latched it, which I hadn’t. He would have heard the lock latch and had a good old laugh at that, me being worried about him barging in.

I showered quickly, brushed my teeth, moisturized my face, dressed in my cotton pants and camisole, and then there was nothing left to do but assess the damage in the steamed up mirror.

My hair had frizzed at the ends, one of the reasons I preferred a bath over the shower. My cotton pants hung softly from my hips to the floor but the camisole showed far too much skin and of course I’d forgotten to fetch my robe from the wardrobe.

I didn’t have the kind of beauty featured on the covers of glossy magazines and I certainly wasn’t the skinniest girl in the world, but I was generally at peace with what I’d been given. This was something else, though. This was going to a pool party for a first date and my self-confidence didn’t stretch quite that far.

And yes, I knew this wasn’t a date, that I’d already reclassified that kiss as ancient history, that I was in no place to even think about another relationship. But… But... But... Nate was still a guy—a sinfully hot guy. And I was still a girl—a girl with frizzy ends.

I search my mind for something from Nana Rose’s repertoire to console me and came up empty. Not even Nana Rose had a saying for this one.

“When life gives you frizzy ends,” I made up, “go to bed.”

I rolled my eyes in the mirror and followed my own advice.

Nate wasn’t prowling.

He’d settled into the armchair near the window, one leg squared over the other, his heavy-lidded eyes lifting to me as I exited the bathroom. The intensity of his appraisal prickled heat beneath my skin and if there’s one certainty in this life, it’s that I shoot my mouth off when I feel awkward.

“There’s a fourth option we never thought about,” I said as I scrambled into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. “You could have bunked down with Joe.”

Nate chuckled, a husky rumble that started deep within his chest. “That was never going to happen.”

“His armchair is larger and comes with a matching pedestal to prop your feet on.”

“But he isn’t nearly as pretty.”

“Just trying to help,” I muttered. “You don’t look very comfortable there.”

“Are you offering me a spot in your bed?”

“I’m trying to show you the door,” I assured him.

He looked at me a long, long moment, his amusement slowly fading into thoughtfulness, and then he totally changed the subject. “What is Joe doing here?”

“Joe?” I stumbled over my tongue a bit, finally came up with, “He’s living here, for now.”

“Yeah, I got that much.” Nate planted an elbow on the armrest and sank his fingers into his hair, his gaze slanting into me. “What happened to getting divorced?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“You made it my business,” he said. “I never asked, remember? You offered. You told me you and Joe were going through a divorce.”

I had, when I’d thought it mattered, when I thought we could be friends. “Do you even care, or is this just your version of small talk?”

“I care.”

“That would be why you haven’t called for three weeks.”

His brow hitched. “You were counting?”

I quickly backtracked to the safer topic. “The divorce is still happening. It’s just taking a little longer than planned.”

Nate caught up to me seamlessly. “And meanwhile, Joe moved in?”

“Yes, well…” The truth lodged in my throat. For all my righteous justifications, the bullet-point facts didn’t paint me in a very good light.

I hadn’t been enough of a woman to keep my man’s attention.

I’d gone textbook shrew and burnt Joe’s savings in what had to be the worst investment of the decade.

And now I was falling over backward to accommodate my cheating husband.

“It’s complicated,” I said lamely.

Nate gave me another long look, and I swore I heard him mutter, “It always is with you,” under his breath as he got up to switch off the overhead light.

I didn’t call him out on it, though. I just added it to my list of bullet-point facts with a disgruntled exclamation mark.

Moonlight slithered through a crack in the drapes, casting Nate in a silken shadow that rounded the base of the bed and sidled up to me. “You’ll have nightmares if you go to bed mad, you know that?”

“I’m not mad.”

“You sure?” The covers pulled as he sat on the edge of the mattress. “I did threaten to cuff and book you.”

“Oh, well, that was mildly irritating, I admit, but I’m not a child, Nate. I realize that was just your protective instincts kicking in.” I peered up at him. “You wouldn’t really have thrown me into a holding cell, would you?”

“Of course not,” he said, then, “I’d have had to make a quick stop at my cabin, blown a tire, and would have had no choice but to detain you there overnight in my custody.”

I groaned inwardly. “You always get your own way, don’t you?”

“There are at least ten ways I want to have you right now and that’s not going to happen.” He reached forward, lightly traced my cheekbone with the pad of his thumb.

The space between us thickened with a slow magnetic charge that pulled him closer and dragged my eyes to his wide, firm mouth. I breathed him in. Pine and earth. My bones softened and I knew I had to stop this, wasn’t sure I could.

“Night, Maddox.” His warm breath feathered the corner of my mouth as he pushed up and turned from me.

I watched him sink into the armchair.
Goodnight, Nate.

Threads of want and longing hummed through my entire body. My pulse was still beating to a kiss that hadn’t happened. With a sigh, I rolled over to face the other way and curled into a ball, preparing to toss and turn the night away without a wink of sleep.

But desire was only one part of my growing attraction to Nate. Whether he was charming me or infuriating me, his presence instilled an innate sense of safety and the next thing I knew, I was waking up to a room brushed with morning sunlight.

Nate was in the process of drawing open the drapes, probably what had woken me.

“Go away,” I groused.

His grin was downright wicked as his gaze found me. “Morning, sleeping beauty.”

I pulled the covers over my head.

He didn’t get the message.

“I had some time on my hands,” he said. “So I was thinking, since we’re stuck here with the GRIMMS, we may as well use it. Having the murderer and all my witnesses crammed into a confined space is actually a best case scenario for any investigation, if I didn’t have to worry about the witnesses being picked off one by one.”

I stuck my chin out to give him a droll look. “This isn’t Ten Little Indians.”

“We don’t know what this is, yet.” Nate stepped up to the bed, angled his head to look at me. Hair the color of roasted coffee fell across his face, grazing the stark hollow of his bristled jaw.

I wet my lips, suddenly not sure if we were talking about him and me or about the murder case.

“I need to get home to shower and change,” he went on. “I’ve already spoken to Joe. Stick with him or Burns, okay? No wandering off alone and for God’s sake, if anything even smells suspicious—”

“I’ll scream,” I promised. “Trust me, I have a powerful set of lungs and I’m not afraid to use them.”

“Okay, then…” His eyes warmed to sunbaked stone as his gaze sank into me, stirring up all that desire I’d gone to sleep on.

He waited a beat, as if he had more to say, as if he wasn’t yet ready to leave. I felt it too, the unresolved tension that demanded action, a word, something more than nothing. But then he let it go and walked out, and I let him.

Giving in to this thing between us would be so easy. Nate was sexy as hell, and he always seemed to be there for me in more ways than our short acquaintance deserved.

The sense of betrayal to my marriage, to myself…that was the hard part. I had loved, with all my heart, and I wouldn’t belittle that by jumping into a fling until I’d put both my marriage and Joe firmly behind me.

Last night’s almost-kiss had been a slip.

Obviously I couldn’t deny the way I responded to Nate, but I didn’t have to take it seriously and I didn’t have to act on it.

SEVEN

The sound of raised voices greeted me as I made my way down the grand staircase. I’d taken the time to straighten my frizzed ends and I’d fussed endlessly over my outfit (jeans, floaty top and knee-high stiletto boots, in case you’re interested), so it wasn’t entirely impossible that Nate had returned and was already dealing with the situation. Or maybe even causing it.

I paused at the bottom of the stairs to contemplate my options.

There was the dining room and a sideboard full of healthy bran cereals. I sniffed the air, but either our guests were all health freaks or Burns had decided that murder disqualified them from a greasy breakfast.

The commotion was coming from the lounge, but that’s where the coffee maker was, and the pastries I’d discretely ordered from Cuppa-Cheeno for our guests’ snacking pleasure.

I braced my shoulders and followed my stomach, straight into a lynch mob scene. Mason was a big man, tall and muscled, but somehow they’d cornered him in the nook next to the bar. Charles stood up front, using age rather than strength to block Mason’s escape. Ella Parker had grabbed a porcelain vase and seemed quite prepared to crack a skull open with or without instigation.

Miss Crawley stood a sensible distance apart, her nose turned up in disdain at the general lack of restraint displayed in the room. And Burns, well, he observed from the sidelines with an expression of stoic resignation, but everyone else crowded around Mason, jabbing fingers and hurling accusations.

I hurried forward. “What on earth is going on?”